So, in this chapter, Bash has nightmares stemming from the previous chapter. It leads to him opening up to Kenna after. I need to warn you, watching the Bash/Claude thing unfold, I along with a few other friends realised a lot of red flags the writers did. This chapter alludes to them having incestual relations and the next chapter explores that. More explanation of these red flags will be in that chapter.

"You should go to the party," Bash suggested as he and Kenna got ready for the day. "I know you know to stay well clear from Antoine, but that doesn't mean that you should miss out."

"I'll think about it," Kenna said nonchalantly, eyeing him pointedly instead. "Are you alright?"

Turning to her, he gave her a little smile. "Yes, I am. You don't have to worry about me."

"But I do," she said, heading towards him and turning as she lifted her laces up for him to do. As he tightened them, she said, "I always worry about you."

Bash finished her laces and rested his hands on her shoulders, brushing his thumbs over the back of her neck. "Well, it's nice to have someone worry about me for a change," he replied before turning her around. "But honestly, my dear wife, I am fine after yesterday."

Kenna smiled and nodded as she then sighed heavily. "What has Francis got you doing today anyway?"

Bash shook his head a little but then thought against denying his wife the truth. "We've heard reports of men coming back to life in the towns. He has asked me to investigate and maintain order as people are rightfully fearful of what that means."

"Has it got anything to do with paganism?" Kenna asked worriedly. "Bash-"

Placing his hands on her cheeks, he kissed her. "I'll be fine. Everything will be fine. It shouldn't take long, and everything should be in order," he told her.

Kenna sighed heavily. "I just worry when you do things related to paganism. You could get hurt."

"I know, but you and I both know that I won't," he replied easily, kissing her once more. "I appreciate your worry, but be rest assured, I'll always come home to you."

Kenna grinned happily. "Alright. You promised me dinner."

"I did, didn't I?" He asked with a smirk. "How about you wait for me instead of going to the party? I'll have servants set everything up, light a few candles and we can spend the evening together. I will return by seven."

Kenna blushed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "I'd like that. No, I'd love that."

Bash grinned in response and kissed her deeply before letting her go and going to collect his sword. "I love you."

Giving him a pointed look, she replied, "I love you more."

...

It was now three hours since seven when Bash promised he'd return home for dinner. The candles had been blown out and Kenna had wrapped a shawl around her frame and sat dejectedly by the fireplace.

At first, she was concerned, but after hearing from a guard that he was still hunting whatever he was hunting an hour ago, she became livid. Timekeeping was not his best quality and she despised that at times.

The door finally opened a little after half-past ten and she rose from her seat as her husband tiredly placed his sword on a chest and began taking his cloak and tunic off.

"Three hours," she mumbled as he almost jumped and held a hand against his chest.

"Kenna, you scared me."

The room was dark but she lit up a few candles, allowing them to get a better view of the other. She sat and said, "You promised you'd be home on time for dinner. Bash, why do you always make empty promises?"

Bash sighed heavily. "Kenna, it was important. I couldn't just abandon the leads I was getting. I couldn't leave women, men and children worrying about their lives."

"You are so concerned for other people, but not me," Kenna muttered angrily. "You'd fight for other people, but not me!"

"Kenna, I always fight for you. My father-"

"That's nothing compared to you leaving me alone every single day!" She exclaimed, standing up. "Bash, you promised me dinner, you promised we'd spend time together for the first time in months after that disaster of a dinner with the Bourbons, and you stood me up. Next, you'll say you're tired and head straight to bed!"

Bash began to put his things away to give his hands something to do as he said, "Kenna, you know my duties to Francis and France are important."

"Yet, you're neglecting your duties to me!" Kenna cried out. "Your wife! Last night was the first night you spent time with me because you felt so guilty for your past actions. I just wanted a night where we could put aside the grief and pain and be normal. A husband and a wife, sharing a lovely dinner with some nice wine and the candles lit. Everything you sent the servants up to do. But the food's stale, the candles are blown out and I'm sad."

Bash dumped his cloak into one of the chests and turned to her. "Why didn't you just bother going to the party like everyone else and be around them rather than wait for me?" He snapped. "You know I have to do things that may run overtime! It's my job, I can't neglect it."

Kenna scoffed in disbelief. "I didn't go to the party because you promised you'd spent time with me! You planned a dinner for us to enjoy together! I kept hoping that you were a little late and would still make it, it got to the point that going to the party was moot."

She was so angry and livid and from his eyes, he wasn't too happy to walk into an argument after a stressful day. So, pushing that aside she hurried to him and forced his head down for a deep kiss which he responded hungrily to, lifting her up and placing her onto their bed a little too rough but she didn't care.

Their hands worked quickly, stripping the other of their clothes before everything became a messy pile on the floor and the moans, whines and grunts filled the air.

...

"I'm sorry," Bash whispered as his wife laid against his bare chest and he ran his finger down the length of her naked body. "Trust me, I'd rather be with you than in the cold, hunting for some witch. But if I don't do it, nobody's willing to. Nobody-"

"Cares like you do," she finished quietly. "You're a good man."

He tensed up at that but relaxed, remembering their conversation about Marcus. "I feel like I have to keep repenting for my sins."

Resting her chin on his chest, she stared into his glassy eyes. "You must end this penance of yours. Good people do bad things, we're not all perfect and God forgives us for that."

"It's easy enough for you to say," he replied sadly. "But thank you."

She smiled and kissed just above his nipple gently. "I love you."

He returned the smile. "I love you more," he replied before she rested her head back onto his chest and they both fell asleep.

It didn't come easy to Bash and his brows furrowed as he was taken through a trip down hell, conjured by the demons in his mind.

He saw himself stab Marcus in the back, over and over again, each time a smile growing on his face and blood staining multiple areas of his body. His hands, his boots, his chainguard, his face. He saw the younger version of him smiling down at the life he'd taken before the boy disappeared with the body and turned into people begging to be absolved of their hells.

A woman in white kept killing a man, draining him of his blood before feeding the blood to the begging people. On the other side of the room, dead people rose and back to the begging people, their begging was silenced. All along, he was chained to a seat, forced to watch and he couldn't save them.

It repeated over and over again as well until everything became black and he was transported back to when he was fourteen. It was shortly after the Italian Wars and he'd come home a hero. His father had got him a new horse, but his grief over killing men so young seeped into his mind and he locked himself in his rooms and drank everything away.

He watched himself stumble to a chair and play with the cross necklace his father had also honoured him with. Something of his late uncle's, but Bash was more pagan than Catholic secretly and he placed the necklace down onto the table and drank some more.

A knock on the door disturbed him and both Bashes turned towards it, the younger one opening the door and rolling his eyes in annoyance. Older Bash recalled this moment.

...

"What do you want, Claude?"

The eleven-year-old skipped into the room coyly and eyed the finished jug before eyeing younger Bash stumble to his bed after closing the door. She grinned cruelly and tutted.

"Hiding away from my father, are you?"

"Go away. I don't have time for you."

"It's so funny," Claude had said, taking a seat beside him on the bed. "That Father praises you and you're not even his son."

Bash paled and turned to her. "What are you talking about?"

She leant closer to him. "I heard him talking to your mother about it. He knows you're not his son but his undying love for her allows you to remain here in his good favour."

Bash was angry and upset. He killed for this man, yet now he wasn't even his blood? All of his brothers and sisters weren't his brothers and sisters? His whole life was a lie?

Claude placed a hand on his thigh. "It's alright. There are other things than being a Valois."

"I'm not a Valois," he spat. "I will never be one!" And yet, he fought for them.

Claude chuckled wistfully. "It's a shame. He even treats you better than he treats his actual children. He's a terrible father all around. Mother's even worse. But it's okay," she placed her hand on his cheek and turned his face to look at her, "We'll always have each other..."

She leaned in for a kiss and that was when the nightmare ended.

...

"Bash?"

His eyes snapped open as he breathed heavily and swallowed hard. "I-I need the chamber pot."

He hurried out of their bed, grabbed his robe and left his wife in their bed, concerned and confused.

It took him an hour until he was ready to face her and she was now dressed in her nightgown with her thumb between her teeth as she nibbled nervously at the skin around it. His eyes met hers and she sighed in relief, standing up to meet him.

"Tell me about your nightmares," she almost begged him, resting her forehead against his.

Tears sprung to his eyes and he gently coaxed her off of him before taking a heavy seat on their bed and sighing. He bowed his head and scoffed. "I'm a monster."

"Bash, we've gone through this. You're not."

He removed his robe and got back into their bed, allowing her to curl up into his side. "I once told Francis, when he killed Tomas... Kenna, I told him that killing wasn't supposed to be easy. That if his hands weren't shaking, he'd be like Tomas."

"Alright..." Kenna whispered.

"When I killed Marcus, my hands were shaking like hell. It was as if I was freezing cold and I felt sick to my stomach. If killing oneself, was a way to stop that feeling of mortification and guilt... Oh, Lord," he breathed out and she winced slightly. "A few times after that, my hands still shook as I claimed other lives. Until one day... they just stopped shaking. I was immune to it. But, Kenna, I don't know if killing has become easier regardless of that."

Kenna smiled tightly. "You see? Do you see how you are a good man?" She asked him, looking at him with love in her eyes. "I don't mind the fact that you kill, I mind whether or not you feel remorse afterwards. And you do and you torture yourself and I want you to stop torturing yourself. I want you to be free from the pain and the guilt. You were directed to kill people in favour of other people, in order to keep your life and position in France. It's understandable. I never want you to feel guilty for the things others make you do. But at least you feel remorse and that doesn't make you a monster, it makes you a good man."

"I keep seeing him, Kenna," he said, his voice breaking. "Marcus. But this time, I loved it. I loved killing him and I'm scared that this darkness is what makes me evil deep down and that my hands stopped shaking because I grew to love killing-"

"It's alright," Kenna whispered, consoling him as he broke down into sobs. She kissed his head over and over again, whispering sweet nothings to make him feel better.

"Then, I can never repent for my sins because I can't save everyone," he continued in distress as she calmly listened and let him vent. "They keep begging me to help, but I can't. I can't save everyone, I can never pay for what I did to the Bourbons and my father suffered because of that. I couldn't save him, I couldn't stop them from poisoning him, we can't find anything and Mary's uncle will die for it..."

"It's alright," Kenna repeated quietly as more sobs escaped his lips.

"I've failed everyone."

She kissed the side of his head. "You could never."

When the tears and sobs subsided, he tried pulling away from her, turning away to dry his face. "When you married me, you probably thought you'd be getting a more stable man."

Kenna laughed softly. "Everybody has their own weaknesses. I happen to embrace yours and I love you even more because of them."

Bash stared at her in disbelief before kissing her gently and getting on top of her, his lips attacking her skin as her breaths became hot and heavy the more fervent he got. Their fingers entwined as he kissed her tenderly and rocked against her more lovingly and tenderly than earlier where it was passion and anger that drove them.

That's what he loved about his wife. They could have the best of all worlds in bed. She was his match to his light.

After she came, he rested his forehead against hers. "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me," he shakily said, tears sliding down his face.

Wiping each one away, Kenna smiled happily. "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me too," she whispered before they fell asleep, entwined in each other's arms, safe and protected.

For clarification, in modern times, child/incestual sex is awful, however, this is set in the 16th century or thereabouts where girls were wedded off for marriage and sex at ages as young as 9. In the show, there are age inconsistencies or it's pretty difficult to establish when certain things happened. Bash has Francis, Elisabeth and Margaret between him and Claude according to the show. Bash is considered to be around a year older than Francis, so when he was 14, Francis was 13, Elisabeth was 12 and Claude was 11 as Catherine had her children consecutively. It was said on the show that Claude convinced Bash that Henry wasn't his father around the Italian Wars period so Bash was 13/14 when that happened, but I'm going with 14. As a result, this information needs to be considered going into the following chapter where more information will be explained. Thanks for reading.